Speech to Hillsdale College's Constitution Day Celebration

Good evening. Thank you for the warm welcome and thank you for the honor of addressing you at this Constitution Day celebration. I admire, and share, your veneration for our national charter.

Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't say the same about the gentleman who lives across the street. In the last week, President Obama has moved ahead with a nuclear-arms control agreement with a mortal and unrepentant enemy with the support only of a rump, partisan minority in the Congress. Some have compared the Iran nuclear deal to Obamacare, but I think that's unfair to Obamacare. At least it had a partisan majority.

This dangerous turn of events offers an occasion to reflect on the state of foreign policy today and the Constitution's place in our foreign policy.

A major preoccupation of foreign-policy elites over the past 25 years has been to forge a new "grand strategy" for the United States. Scholars and practitioners tend to see a foreign policy adrift after the fall of the Soviet Union, when containment of Soviet expansion became obsolete overnight. Seeing no major ideological or military rival, some believed the Owl of Minerva had taken flight, and the end of history reduced the need for strategic thinking. Alas, that fantasy came crashing down along with two big towers fourteen years ago last Friday. Again, foreign-policy elites searched for a new strategy, this time for the age of Islamic terror.

Circumstances do change and foreign policy, often a matter of prudence, must change with them to achieve the same ends. Alexander Hamilton, for example, invented our tariff system and Hamiltonians defended it for more than a century, yet today they're the most ardent of free-traders. So the effort to develop a strategy for our times is welcome. In fact, it would be nice if we had a strategy, as this president seems to confuse ideology with strategy, which he often admits that he lacks.

Still, I'm struck by a certain blind spot in this way of thinking. Too often, the search for a new grand strategy simply becomes the search for something new. This way of thinking carries a hint of disdain for the principles and foreign-policy traditions of our past. It only rarely looks back on the wisdom of our Founders.

But this is a mistake, as I don't have to tell this audience. After all, when the makers of kids' breakfast cereals roll out a new product, they say it's "new and improved," because we all know the former doesn't necessarily imply the latter. Likewise, every new and fashionable idea in foreign policy isn't necessarily an improved idea. On the contrary, we ought to pay some respect to the old ideas—ideas that took us from a small and weak colonial outpost to the greatest superpower in history in just 170 years. With that track record, common sense would suggest that there's something special we can learn about charting our way in the world from the Constitution and the strategies that arose from it.

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Our Founders gave us a constitutional democracy, a system of government that informs our foreign policy just as much as it does our domestic policy. For many foreign-policy elites, especially those abroad, this is a serious problem for U.S. foreign policy. Democracy empowers the people, these critics say, who they believe can be ignorant, emotional, and fickle, swinging wildly from war mongering to isolationism, from moralism to callousness. Far better, they say, is what Walter Mead has called the "auteur theory of foreign policy," guided by a brilliant strategist, insulated from the unruly masses.

One hears the echo of this viewpoint in the praise for what these critics see as the coherent and decisive strategic thinking of Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping. Putin is praised as a brilliant strategist, one who is "redefining 21st-century warfare." Xi has been called a "game-changer" in China's rise, one whose international ambitions and power rivals that of Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping, modern China's most influential leaders.

I'll admit that Putin and Xi may have stolen a march on our president here or there. But that's an indictment of President Obama's particular abilities and policies, not our system. By the traditional measures of international influence—economic might, per capita measures of well-being, military and trade cooperation agreements, cultural weight—the United States far outpaces both Russia and China, as well as the rest of the world.

And while a brooding auteur may in fact have strategic foresight, intellect, and prudence, no man is infallible, no matter how talented. Napoleon, brilliant general that he was, still marched the Grand Armée across the Nieman River into Russia. Otto von Bismarck toiled for decades to unify the German states, only to see his fragile work undone a few years later by Wilhelm II's militarism and adventurism.

And in the same way past leaders and regimes have faltered, I believe that over time Putin and Xi—to say nothing of Kim Jong Un or the ayatollahs in Tehran—will also miscalculate, suffer strategic setbacks, and perhaps face their own downfalls.

But the United States is different from these regimes. Our constitutional system doesn't depend on brilliant leaders. Enlightened statesmen, as Madison wrote, won't always be at the helm. Our system is based on individual rights, safe-guarded by well-crafted, ultimately democratic institutions. While we always hope for wise leaders, our Constitution works in their absence by filtering the wisdom of the people through those democratic institutions.

This approach couldn't be more at odds with the auteur theory of foreign policy. From that perspective, our system looks like some kind of policy-making Frankenstein. Authority is divided between the executive and the legislature. The executive itself is divided among competing departments. The President and Secretary of State serve a short tenure compared to the kings and ministers of the old world. Equal representation of states in the Senate gives considerable influence to regional interests. The arcane rules of the Senate, along with the separation of powers itself, simply slow the whole process down. How could this "thing" ever work?

Yet it does, again and again. The talent of a single leader or a small group with outsized control over foreign policy can never match the moderation, prudence, and self-correcting capability of our constitutional democracy over the long term. And in international relations, it's the long term that counts.

In the realm of domestic policy, these ideas are familiar. Our constitutional system works to ensure that all the individuals, interests, factions, lobbies, and others who influence and are influenced by domestic policy are more or less satisfied—or perhaps minimally dissatisfied. The same thing plays out in foreign policy as well. America's foreign policy tradition is flexible, agile, and multi-faceted, and it therefore tends to produce positive results for us in a complicated world.

Again, I cannot stress enough how alien and unfashionable this way of thinking is in Foggy Bottom and the West Wing, not to mention European ministries. Among many foreign-policy elites, these democratic influences are something to be suffered and overcome—as we've seen most recently in the debate about the Iran nuclear deal.

In the end, though, we usually survive mistakes by particular leaders because leaders are not the foundation of our system. The foundation of U.S. foreign policy is the views and values of the American people, filtered by elected representatives through democratic institutions, proven by time.

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Of course, this foreign policy tradition is not an accident. When designing the Constitution, the Founders were very conscious of the need to invest the federal government with strong foreign-affairs powers, while accounting for the interests of states and the people.

A driving force behind the Constitutional Convention was the failure of the Continental Congress to manage the foreign affairs of the young republic. This imperative was clear in the ratification debates. The first five papers in The Federalist are devoted to the necessity of blunting the influence of foreign powers and to the organization of U.S. military power. And a full fifteen papers in The Federalist are focused on international relations and civilian command of the military.

Against this background, the Constitution could be understood not only as a national charter, but also a strategic document. The institutions established by the Constitution to channel the conduct of foreign policy imply certain principles of foreign policy. We ought to keep these timeless principles in mind as we craft strategy for today's world.

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One principle we find in the Constitution is so simple it's usually overlooked: the states are stronger as a union than as separate powers. A union of the states overcame divisions of culture, economic interest, and military capacity—divisions that would have been exploited by foreign powers to turn one state against another, and weaken and cow the American continent to their designs.

A union strengthened the collective power of the states in their foreign relations. It allowed them to pool their various resources to create advantages of scale and scope in military and economic power. As Federalist 4 states, "union and good national government" is "necessary" to "repress and discourage ... war." Further, "if ... our national government is efficient ... our trade prudently regulated, our militia properly organized and disciplined, our resources and finances discreetly managed, our credit re-established, our people free, contented, and united," foreign powers "will be much more disposed to cultivate our friendship than provoke our resentment." Conversely, if the states were divided, we would earn the "contempt" of foreign nations and, eventually, their "outrage" and outsized influence.

This principle came under threat—but survived—during the Civil War. In his first annual message to Congress, President Lincoln sent a clear warning to foreign powers to refrain from interfering in the war. But, at the same time, he acknowledged that "factious domestic division" exposed the nation to what he deemed "disrespect abroad" and eventual "foreign intervention."

We may take this principle for granted today, but it's very much in play around the world. The European Union, for example, has a greater combined population and economy than the U.S. Political division, however, greatly reduces the EU's role in world affairs. The smaller nation-states of Central and Eastern Europe, in particular, find themselves at risk from—or perhaps at the mercy of—Russia. Likewise, the countries of the Asia-Pacific region, from South Korea to India all worry about China's aggressive drive for regional hegemony, yet they struggle with their own enmity and rivalries to form a united strategy to counter China.

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The primacy of union gives rise to a second, subsidiary principle: treaties with foreign powers are very serious business, ought not be entered lightly, and must be widely supported across the country.

The Founders believed the violation of major foreign commitments was a chief source of friction and war in international relations. In fact, Federalist 3 recognized just two sources of war: direct violence and the breach of treaties.

Thus, the Constitution requires that a major foreign commitment that binds our people have a broad consensus among the people, and not result from the parochial interests of a minority or even a narrow majority. As literal matters of war and peace, treaties should reflect a strong Union, not a divided nation.

This principle led to the Treaty Clause, which empowers the President to negotiate treaties, but requires two-thirds of the Senate to approve them and—if necessary—demand changes. This extraordinary requirement is really just an ongoing expression of the original decision to form a union. And it has produced a system where treaties routinely go through many iterations, and rounds of negotiations, even after initial signature by the President. Treaties throughout our history carry scores of conditions, reservations, and amendments added by Congress, precisely to ensure widespread acceptance among the people.

This was in fact how the first treaty ratified under the Treaty Clause played out. The Jay Treaty with Britain—negotiated by a co-author of The Federalist—only gained Senate approval on the condition that Jay rework the treaty to add a clause regarding trade between the United States and the British West Indies.

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Another principle is that the Union must have a strong military, but one that was at the same time restrained and subject to the control of the people.

At the time of the Founding, a powerful and restrained military was something of an oxymoron. Federalist 11, for instance, states that a strong military—and in particular a strong Navy—was vital not only to deter aggression, but also to secure and expand international trade. Yet Federalist 26 recognizes that military might has historically posed a grave threat to individual liberty.

This presented what seemed to be a Hobson's choice between either a strong military or a weak military, both of which would threaten liberty over time either at the hands of foreign powers or an oppressive central government.

But our Founders charted a way out of this dilemma. The Constitution empowered the President, as Commander-in-Chief, to defend against attack and take decisive military action where necessary.

At the same time, it entrusted the People's representatives in Congress with a wide range of the foreign-affairs powers that counseled, prudence, democratic control, and protection against tyranny.

Only Congress can raise and support armies.

Only Congress may declare war, and invoke the legal obligations and protections that this legal state of international relations confers.

Only Congress regulates foreign commerce, and with it control over important levers of influence with foreign nations in order to better relations, exact costs, and prevent war.

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Union, widespread popular support for international commitments, and a strong and safe military—these are but three constitutional principles to be found in our foreign policy tradition. Together, they help to expand our nation's options abroad. They ensure a deliberative space within which our constitutional democracy may produce an effective and robust foreign policy.

The Founders understood that a union, committed to broadly popular policies and backed with a capable military would be empowered to conduct its foreign policy not at the point of another nation's gun, but in accordance with the country's interests and ideals.

Under President Obama, though, there has been considerable drift away from these foundational principles. And that drift has contributed to the general drift of U.S. foreign policy. Even President Carter has said, "I can't think of many nations in the world where we have a better relationship now than when he took over." Jimmy Carter! Our interests are threatened, our alliances are stressed, and our honor is stained. And our adversaries are increasingly tempted into new episodes of adventurism and aggression both against us and our friends and allies.

A most recent example of this drift is the Iran nuclear deal. This is a major arms control agreement with a mortal enemy, an enemy with the blood of thousands of Americans on its hands and for whom "Death to America" is a foreign-policy bedrock. And the agreement goes to the heart of the gravest threat facing the world: a terror-sponsoring state armed with nuclear weapons.

This is precisely the type of agreement that the Founders intended to be tested and refined by the treaty process. It is precisely the type of agreement implicating matters of war and peace that must be supported by a widespread consensus of the American people.

But the president didn't submit the Iran nuclear deal as a treaty. From the beginning, he always intended to circumvent the people's representatives to obligate the U.S. to the ayatollahs by a mere executive agreement. Instead of rallying two-thirds of the Senate to support the deal, President Obama relied on a tiny, partisan minority to protect his executive agreement from the judgment of the American people.

This is dangerous and nearly unprecedented. Executive agreements are and should be reserved for technical matters. Among the first executive agreements reached were the 1792 agreements between the United States and other nations to coordinate mail delivery. Executive agreements have also been traditionally used to assign claims and debts between nations.

These issues are low stakes, and are not breeding grounds for armed conflict. They're akin to deciding whether cars will drive on the right or left side of the road. That's why they need not be tested by a supermajority vote.

But nuclear weapons agreements are different. The dividing line between which subjects are reserved for treaties and which are reserved for less formal scrutiny is not precise, at the margins. But this isn't at the margins; in our history, major arms-control agreements that bind the U.S. have almost invariably been reached through treaty. One notable exception was the Agreed Framework with North Korea. And I doubt President Obama would like to cite the North Korea case as a precedent, though it surely is in its contempt for Congress and, likely, in its ultimate nuclear outcome as well.

Why did President Obama ignore the Treaty Clause? The answer is stunning. Secretary of State John Kerry lamented in testimony to Congress that it's "physically impossible" to get a treaty through the Senate in these polarized times. Of course, this logic could apply to any politically inconvenient part of the Constitution—not that President Obama hasn't tried that. Moreover, Secretary Kerry must've forgotten that, as chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, he guided a nuclear arms-control treaty with Russia to ratification less than five years ago.

I guess you could say that John Kerry was for the Treaty Clause, before he was against it.

The simple fact is that the president ignored the Constitution because he knew his deal would be rejected by the Senate if subjected to a vote.

This disregard for the Treaty Clause is the height of hubris. The president's decision to discard the treaty process mistakes tunnel vision for principle; close-mindedness for superior wisdom; and a search for a personal legacy for the vital national interest. This nuclear deal with Iran is a travesty, one that betrays our close friend Israel, provides billions for Iran's campaign of terror, and paves the way for Iran to obtain nuclear-weapons capability.

Besides this immediate damage to our national security, the deal also damages the foundational principle that major foreign commitments should be backed by a broad consensus of the people as reflected by Congress. This episode, added to the North Korea example, will make it extremely tempting for future presidents to avoid the expenditure of political capital required to pass a treaty. Presidents will be tempted to reach expedient deals on momentous issues, deals that instead of uniting the nation, will divide it.

This was a key reason why 46 of my colleagues in the Senate and I released a letter to the ayatollahs earlier this year putting them on notice about any push by the president to conclude the Iran deal as a mere executive agreement. Any major agreement—particularly one with a terror-sponsoring adversary—must be able to win the wide support of the American people and pass the high bar set by the Founders in the Treaty Clause. If not, it should be rejected.

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While the Iran deal is the latest wound to our foreign-policy tradition, a long-festering one is the decline of our military might. There's a growing disconnect between the Founder's commitment to a powerful navy to secure free commerce and peaceful relations on one hand and the present state of our military on the other.

Our military has faced fifteen years of war and six years of repeated budget cuts. It's now breaking under the burden of a mindless sequestration that indiscriminately cuts across the board and treats every dollar of federal spending equally—whether for defense or for pork.

As a consequence, our military is facing a crisis. Our Navy has 260 ships, the lowest level since the end of the Cold War. Our Air Force is the smallest and oldest force in our history. The Army and the Marine Corps are on track to drop below 450,000 and 190,000 personnel, the bare minimum levels our commanders say we need to fulfill our missions.

These unwise cuts to our military call into question U.S. resolve and security commitments. It's not a coincidence that, in the span of a few years, we have seen a revisionist Russia exert its will in Ukraine and the Middle East; that radical jihadism has metastasized across the Middle East and North Africa; that China is projecting power over more and more aerial and maritime territories; and that Iran out-negotiated us while it also spreads chaos across the Middle East through its clients and proxies.

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This picture isn't pretty, but as I said earlier, the American foreign-policy tradition has a knack for self-correction, for turning the ship around and reversing past mistakes. But for that to happen, we need to look back to the foundational principles of our Constitution.

To restore respect for the Treaty Clause, we must make every effort in the following year to isolate and impugn the president's nuclear deal with Iran as a singular, one-off agreement that ought never be repeated.

We must put every nation and every business on notice that this deal is temporary and unique. They must understand that U.S. sanctions on Iran—either through new legislation or through a new president—will return. We must work to elect a new president who will rescind the Iran nuclear deal—and who will restore the credible threat of force.

Put simply, our allies and our adversaries must understand that this nuclear arms-control deal reached by executive agreement is not secure. They have to understand that it's in our interest and their interest to conclude stable and long-lasting agreements by way of a treaty. And all future Presidents should see that building consensus through the advice and consent of the Senate will afford them a genuine, lasting legacy.

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A restoration of the Treaty Clause must be accompanied by a restoration of our military might. Frederick the Great said, "Diplomacy without arms is like music without instruments." In other words, it's inert, inaudible, and ineffective. If we want our diplomacy to be effective and our agreements to be strong, we must rebuild our military.

The American tradition has never been to seek war, or to seek it first in a dispute. Lincoln, again in his first annual message to Congress, prized diplomacy to defuse tensions with foreign powers and to maintain our "rights and honor." But in the same breath, he called for a military build-up. "Aggressions," Lincoln stated, "are seldom made upon a nation ever ready to defend its honor and to repel insults."

To ensure that we are ready to defend our national honor today, we will need significantly more defense spending than Congress and our President have managed to agree upon in recent years. Our current defense budget is a little more than a political compromise, which may be appropriate for highway funding or tax policy, but which is no way to fund a military. And it's no way to face up to rising threats.

Congress and the President must return to the foundational principle that our military edge must not be challenged. We must give our fighting men and women the resources they need to deter, fight, and win wars.

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The Founders and generations of statesmen since have recognized the unique advantages with which the United States is blessed.

We're a continental nation and we enjoy the protection of two oceans that separate us from the historic cauldrons of conflict in Europe and Asia.

We have abundant natural resources and an industrious society, making us a powerful trading partner.

Ours is a people slow to anger, but imbued with a martial tradition and fighting spirit.

And our democratic culture is vigorous, resilient, and cherished by the people.

It's these strengths that are channeled by the Constitution into our foreign policy tradition. U.S. strategy abroad—while not successful in every instance—has brought us from being a world backwater to the world's superpower.

As we think about our future and new strategies, it would serve us well to look back at old truths.

While each Congress and president will have particular differences, we all share the same goal: a world of peace and freedom, of prosperity and opportunity, of hope. We have a duty to ourselves to be true to those beliefs, to use our great power wisely on behalf of freedom and guided by Constitutional principle. As Ronald Reagan admonished in his speech to the British Parliament in 1982, "Let us go to our strength. Let us offer hope. Let us tell the world that a new age is not only possible but probable."